


Eye of the Storm

by Hansotsi (Karmula)



Series: Hanna Week 2014 [2]
Category: Frozen (Disney Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, Bathing/Washing, Established Relationship, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sharing a Bed, True Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-14
Updated: 2014-06-14
Packaged: 2020-12-09 16:43:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20998046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Karmula/pseuds/Hansotsi
Summary: Anna mumbled incoherently, eyes still heavy with unconsciousness, lids half-closed, and reached out a hand to cup her husband's cheek, threading her fingers through his sideburns and clutching tightly. It was almost as if she were anchoring him in place; almost as if she was terrified he was just a figment of her imagination, and that he could – or that he would - disappear at any moment. Hans smiled sadly, his heart going out to her. What could possibly have happened to frighten her so?





	Eye of the Storm

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for Hanna Week Day II, 2014, inspired by the prompts "Touch: Chin-Grabbing" and "Bad Weather." Edited and reuploaded in 2019.

The sky was awake, and so was she.

But tonight, the sky was angry.

The princess tossed and turned in her bed, moaning, still half-asleep. Rain pounded on the roof over her head, and she bit her pillow to stifle a scream. At the same moment, a bolt of lightning flashed across the sky, throwing the bedroom into sharp relief. Pillows had been strewn across the floor, tangled in a mess of sheets and blankets that the princess had kicked off during the night as she tried desperately to ignore the dark, purple storm that raged above.

She began to count under her breath, but the number one had yet to slip from her lips when an accompanying roar of thunder rolled overheard, and she found herself choking on a sob. The storm was close, so close; right overhead. In her mind’s eye she heard her parent’s cries of terror, their pleas for help, their prayers; she saw their ship tossed about the roiling sea, before it opened its hideous, gaping jaws and swallowed the vessel whole, forcing her parents into their watery graves.

“No!” she screamed suddenly, her eyes spilling over with tears. “Mama! Papa!”

She bolted up, her blue eyes wide and frenzied, glossy with a sheen of tears that had yet to be shed. She reached out a clammy hand into the darkness, but let it drop when she realised that there was no one there to hold it.

She staggered out of bed, picking her way across the cluttered floor like a drunk, swaying from side to side, her mind still heavy with sleep and laden with fear. She was clad in only a thin nightgown, drenched in her own freezing cold sweat. She continued to let out a steady stream of speech mumbled incomprehensibly under her breath, though one or two words could be picked out occasionally. Most common of these were ‘Mama’, ‘Papa’, and ‘Hans’.

Floorboards creaking loudly in protest against her weight, she crept through the dark halls. She could barely see through the watery film covering her eyes – paired with the darkness, it was a sure recipe for disaster. The only times her vision was even half restored to her was when the lightning flashed, but at those times she was so incapacitated with fear that it did her no good, anyway. She stumbled aimlessly about the castle, bumping into various objects, her subconscious mind obviously searching for something.

The princess let out a whimper, her eyelids drooping shut, and collided with a bang into something heavy. She fell to the floor with a cry, her head slamming against the side of the unknown object that had been her undoing in the dark, her last sight the trees being blown to shreds by the howling wind outside the window, illuminated by the lightning that coursed through the sky once more.

* * *

The prince was startled from his slumber by the fleshy thud of something crashing to the floor right outside his bedroom. He leapt immediately from his bed and scrambled out the door, glancing both left and right down the pitch-black hall without seeing anything. Overhead, thunder crashed, and the prince flinched at the noise. He couldn’t see anything, but he was sure he had heard something…

“Hello?” he called, his voice echoing.

He stood there for several minutes, ears perked, head cocked. Just as he began to doubt he had heard anything at all, a soft moan came from the darkness to his left. There! He knew he’d heard something.

“Hello? Who’s there?” He took a cautious step forward, the floorboards squeaking a little beneath him. From his left, another moan. “Are you alright?”

The prince crept slowly forward, but his path was blocked by the large armoire he knew stood in the hall. Then, a flash of lighting – his surroundings were momentarily illuminated, and he just caught sight of a lock of strawberry blonde hair fanned out across the floor behind the armoire, before the light dissipated and he was once again plunged into darkness.

“Anna?”

“Mmmf… Hans?”

Her reply was muffled and broken, but Hans would know that sweet voice anywhere. Extending a hand and running it along the wood of the armoire, substituting touch for sight, he made his way forward, stooping low and groping at the floor. His fingers slid across skin, clammy with cold sweat, and, knowing he had found her, the prince kneeled and gently scooped the young woman into his arms. From head to toe she was completely drenched, the fabric of her nightdress drying stiff with salt.

“Anna!” Hans gasped, cradling the princess in his arms. “What happened to you? Oh, you’re so cold!”

Anna mumbled incoherently, eyes still heavy with unconsciousness, lids half-closed, and reached out a hand to cup his cheek, threading her fingers through his sideburns and clutching tightly. It was almost as if she were anchoring him in place; almost as if she was terrified he was just a figment of her imagination, and that he could – or that he would - disappear at any moment. Hans smiled sadly, his heart going out to her. What could possibly have happened to frighten her so?

“Come on. Let’s go get you cleaned up.” Never breaking contact with the girl he held so carefully in his arms, Hans stumbled back down the dark hallway, re-entering his bedroom and settling the princess on his bed, tucking the sheets in tightly around her as she shivered against the cold, still grasping at his face.

“Anna, my darling, you have to let go now.” She whimpered when he extricated himself from her hold, and he felt a lump of guilt, heavy and sour, knotting deep in the pit of his stomach. “I’ll be right back, okay?”

He ducked to stamp a quick kiss on her forehead before turning on his heel and heading for the ensuite bathroom.

Hans kneeled on the cold tile floor beside the claw-footed bathtub, rolling up his shirt sleeves to the elbow, exposing a hairy, freckled expanse of sun-kissed skin. Steam rose in warm, moist tendrils that curled and licked at his face as he drew a bath, wondering at the cause of Princess Anna’s distress.

Absentmindedly, the prince poured in various bath oils and salts, barely registering the cacophony of scents that assaulted his nose. At that same moment, the sky let out a mighty roar as the thunder crashed above him.

Anna screamed.

Hans turned immediately in the direction of the noise and rushed to Anna’s side. The princess was hysterical, tears flowing freely down her cheeks, chest heaving, breaths coming in short, ragged bursts. “Anna, what is it?” Hans asked urgently, his eyes wide and filled with concern. “_Anna!_”

“No! No! You have to help them – we have to help them, we have to_save_ them, quickly, please–”

"Save who? Anna!”

“_Mama! Papa!_”

Hans’s eyes widened in sudden understanding. “Oh, Anna,” he murmured, slipping his hand underneath her cheek to cup her chin, tilting it upwards so she could meet his gaze. Her eyes were wide, almost comically so – but there was nothing comical about the fear he found there, the pain, the sheen of yet more tears that threatened to spill over. He slid his hands around her waist, lifting her onto his lap and holding her close against his broad chest.

“Don’t let it get me,” Anna whispered, burying her face in his nightshirt and sobbing.

“I won’t. You’re okay, Anna. I’ve got you,” Hans promised, peppering her face with chaste kisses. “I’ve got you. Now, let’s go get you cleaned up, okay?”

Hefting Anna in his arms, Hans stood up and walked back to the bathroom, lowering her into the steamy water. She inhaled sharply a little at the contact, but soon breathed a sigh of relief, her muscles relaxing visibly.

“That’s better, isn’t it?” Hans cooed soothingly. “I’m going to need to take off your shift now, Anna, okay? Just so we can get you cleaned up.”

When Anna nodded, Hans grasped the hem of her thin shift in his fingers, lifting it up and over her head and setting it on the tiles beside him. With sure, steady fingers, he untangled Anna’s strawberry braids, finger-combing through her soft, fiery hair. Picking up a sponge, he gently sponged down her sweat-soaked skin, wringing the warm water out over Anna’s back and watching as it ran in rivulets down its freckled planes.

Despite the intimacy of his actions, Anna did not feel uncomfortable. Rather, she leaned willingly into Hans’s touch, craving his warmth, his steadiness, his reliability. When he had washed away the sweat, Hans set the sponge back down.

“I’ll be right back, okay?” he promised, standing up. Seeing the panicked expression on his wife’s face, he bent down to press a swift yet sweet kiss to the crown of her head before striding quickly out of the room.

True to his word, he returned shortly after, carrying a neatly folded towel and a nightshirt – one of his own, Anna noted – in his arms.

“I hope you don’t mind, well, wearing mine. I just thought it would be easier, and it looks a lot warmer than, well –” Hans broke off, clearing his throat. Setting the stack on the floor, he ran a hand through his dishevelled auburn hair. Anna hadn’t noticed before, but he was sporting a wild, wiry crop of bed hair. She suppressed a giggle, instead opting to nibble on her fingernails.

“You just get dressed, okay? I’ll come back in in a few minutes,” Hans assured her before leaving once more.

Once he had left, Anna pulled the plug from the bath, waiting until it had drained completely before gingerly setting foot on the cold tile floor. She wrapped herself in the towel, pleased to find that it was soft, fluffy and unbelievably warm. Overhead, the sounds of the storm were more subdued, the only sounds the gentle, rhythmic pitter-patter of the raindrops drumming on the roof.

Her head clear once more, Anna dried herself off and slipped her husband’s nightshirt over her head. It fell to midway down her thigh, and was made of a soft, thick, dark red material, patterned with the geometric blue and grey rosemaling that cropped up so frequently in Arendelle. Her hands were swallowed up by the long sleeves, and she scrunched the material up in her fist, wrapping her arms around herself nervously.

“Hans?” she called out. “I’m dressed now. You can come back in.”

The door creaked open, and Hans stepped inside, holding out his hand. Anna grasped it firmly, the material of his nightshirt creating a barrier between them, but Anna was still grateful for his warm, comforting presence. Hans led her back into his bedroom, stopping short by the bed.

“Do you want me to walk you back to your room?” Hans asked, rubbing the back of his neck, not quite meeting Anna’s gaze. “Or – well, if you wanted, you could…” he trailed off, looking up and meeting Anna’s wide eyes. With his free hand he rolled up Anna’s sleeve so that he could lace his fingers with hers and squeezed, revelling in the feel of the warmth of her skin against his. “You could sleep here.”

Anna bit her lip, nodding. “I – yes, please, Hans.” The drumming of the rain had almost disappeared completely, the steady drip-drip-drip of rainwater down the windowpanes gentle, almost melodic. Hans bobbed his head in a short nod, leaning down to brush a quick kiss to Anna’s cheek before walking around to his side of the bed and slipping between the covers.

“Are you coming in?”

Anna slipped in beside him, immediately feeling his body heat radiating outwards, seeping through the pores of her skin. She hadn’t felt such warmth in a long time, nor such tender intimacy as a touch, and she sighed contentedly. For the moment it was almost enough to forget. To purge her mind of the images it was so frequently haunted by, especially during storms.

Almost.

She rolled over to face him, the bedsprings creaking underneath her weight. “Hans?”

“Yes, Anna?”

All she could make out of him was his wide, bright eyes, gleaming faintly in the gloom, trained on her and filled with love, adoration – and the slightest, most subtle hint of concern. Of fear. Not of her, but for her. The pain she felt was mirrored in him; for her to suffer was for him to suffer, as well.

“I miss them.” Her voice cracked on the last syllable, and she choked back a sob.

Hans scooted closer, wrapping one arm protectively around her thin, trembling form and drawing her closer, so she was curled against his chest, his hand resting lightly on the curve of her hip, his fingers rubbing slow circles into her skin.

“I know,” he murmured against her hair, squeezing her tighter. Anna closed her eyes, a strange sensation, like having a quilt laid over her face, settling over her as fatigue took hold. “But it will be okay. I promise. And look – it’s stopped raining. We must have reached the eye of the storm.”

“I love you, Hans,” she whispered, her last words before she fell to unconsciousness.

His reply: “I love you, too, Anna. So, so much.”

They were the last words she heard – louder than the echoes of thunder, of the pounding of the rain that was still very much alive in her mind – before she fell asleep, and for once, here, in the arms of her true love, she was at peace.


End file.
